Scenarios n Exchanges
by RivanKnight
Summary: 5 chaps of slash. A/L n other pairings but no lemon
1. The Beach

/** Author's Note: Hello all, this little fic is for my bro who loves Legolas. And has a fantasy of him being gay, With Aragorn. *cough* She's female by the way. All characters belong to JRR Tolkien. It might be offensive to some but… Hey! It's all in good fun, non? Hahaha… Anyway, it's really written for my dear bro in terrible archaic speech. Bro! I expect a treat! Gaaah…  Enjoy and if possible, R/R! if u can understand what I'm writing… **/

Scenarios n Exchanges (that will make JRR Tolkien do flip-flops in his grave)

(In other words, things that we will never see in the books or in the movies… )

Scenario n Exchange #1: 

The beach was empty, save for two lone figures walking towards the water. Tis was rare indeed, seeing that tis WAS a weekend after all. 

"Where art the rest of the humans, My Lord?" Legolas whispered softly to the HUNKY man (A/N: oooo yeah…) beside him, his honey white, wind-blown hair falling in silky strands across his bare, pale shoulders. (A/N: they are NOT naked. Just wearing leggings.)

"Thou not likest it, Dear Elf?" The man, known as Aragorn or Elessar in Elven, Son of Arathorn, Heir of Isildur, Heir of Gondor, King of Gondor… asked with a worried frown. (A/N: ok fine. Aragorn will now be declared as The-man-with-too-many-names…) HIS wind-blown dark brown hair wisped back from his rugged face.

"Non non! Tis fine with me!" Legolas replied hurriedly. He gave a reassuring smile at The-man-with-too-many-names. HE smiled back, flashing a perfect handsome row of white teeth, which made HIM swoon. 

The two men hath by now reached the water's edge. The-man-with-too-many-names gave a quick grin at Legolas, flashing his handsome set of teeth once again. 

"My Lord? Something wrong? Thy eyes hath a certain glint in them…" Legolas the pretty elf, inquired.  He looked suspiciously at the other man, trying very hard not to swoon AGAIN right there and then. Tis was becoming a very bad habit indeed. Before the pretty elf couldst speakest further, The-man-with-too-many-names hath lifted the light and pretty elf up with his strong manly arms and was now wading into the sea.

"ARAGORN!! What art thou doing??? I re-bonded my hair yesterday!! It mustn't get w- " The elf dropped into the water like a rock, causing a loud splash. Legolas stood up soaking wet in a rather undignified manner and glared angrily at his lover. "Thou shalt pay for this unkind act, HUMAN! *gasp* My pretty tresses!" The elf wailed in horror.

The-man-with-too-many-names gave a slight chuckle at the distress look on his dear elf's face. He traced a finger slowly across Legolas's cheeks. The wailing stopped immediately and The-man-with-too-many-names stared passionately into the deep eyes of his lover elf, noting the slight shade of pink that hath appeared on the tip of the elf's pointed ears. He cupped the pretty elf's face with one manly hunky hand, and kissed the soft pretty lips slowly. The small gesture accelerated quickly into a HUGE bout of passionate lovemaking and what was to be an innocent trip to the beach hath turned out to be not so innocent after all. 

The End.


	2. The Pink Handkerchief

/** Author's Note: For why I wrote this fiction, please see SnE #1. And again, it is written in terrible archaic speech. ;P  R/R please!

Just wish to say a few words to those who reviewed.

Yukito: Bro! Just make sure you give me big treat!

disco biscuit: Thanks for giving me a good review! More chapters to come :) By the way, I boarded my door with planks of wood. I SHOULD be safe from them purists… I hope! 

cable: Brudder! Sheesh… :P

Iori: Yepz, I AM having fun… Lots of fun! Whoo!

Enrika: BUDDY! Thanks for reviewing! 

Ivory Tower: Hi there! Your Dr. Snape's Solutions were too short too!!!!! Waaaa! *sniff* I want more chapters… 

Werecat99: Hey thanks for your review! It makes MY day to read it. Will definitely have more scenarios cropping up!

To all: Drop me some ideas for scenarios k? Any suggestions as to where they should go next? Or any pairing that you like to see. Thanks again to you all! **/

Scenarios n Exchanges (that will make JRR Tolkien do flip-flops in his grave)

(In other words, things that we will never see in the books or in the movies… )

Scenario n Exchange #2: 

Legolas, the pretty elf, was sitting on a lone settee, sewing the initials of both his and his lover's name on a pink handkerchief. (A/N: Tis only an 'A'. Quite impossible for Legolas to sew the FULL initials, which art, just to name a few, AESoAHoIHoGKoG, because (a) His fingers will go into spasm (b) The cloth tis too small.) Green leaf patterns framed the square silk cloth and the elf was quite proud of his new handiwork. He hath gotten the sewing materials from Eowyn who was understandably quite startled to hear the strange request. (A/N: Eowyn tis still in the dark about THE relationship and tis currently still hankering after The-man-with-too-many-names.) Giving a pretty smile, the elf stuck the needle back into the pincushion and beamed proudly at the newly sewn 'AL' at the corner of the pink cloth. At tis moment, The-man-with-too-many-names opened the wooden oak door and stepped into the room.

"My Lord!" Legolas stood up and greeted the rugged-looking and handsome man enthusiastically. "Look at tis!" He displayed the handkerchief for The-man-with-too-many-names to see.

"AL??!! Thou likest the actor AL PACINO?! Non! I will not have thee consorting with him!" The hunky man screamed.

"Al who?? What tis an actor, my Lord Aragorn? Why art thou mad with me?! Thou not likest our names to be sewn together?" The elf choked broken-heartedly, tears appearing at the corner of his stricken pretty eyes. Tis was after all the first time his love hath lost his temper on him.

"Wait. Our names?? *pause*Oh~…!!!" The-man-with-too-many-names turned a pale shade of white, which was very obvious against his beautiful, golden-tan skin as he realised what the 'AL' stood for. (A/N: Aragorn tis NOT stupid. Just a little slow. Really.)

"Aragorn! I…I…I hate thee!" The-man-with-too-many-names winced as Legolas spat out the last sentence venomously. Aye, elves COULDST sound venomous if they wanted too. But tis still sounded pretty of course. 

"Erm… My dear elf, tis was but a misunderstanding… erm… I sincerely apologise for my outburst… erm…please…find it in thy pretty heart to forgive me?" The-man-with-too-many-names said soothingly, trying extremely hard to pacify his now very angry elf. _Bummer…_ He thought. _Tis is so lame…_ (A/N: No argument there.) Legolas simply stared at him. _This TIS so lame! Aragorn…I expect better from thee… _HE thought. 

 "My love, tis there anything thou wanst? I shalt get it for thee, just to show thee how sorry I am…" The-man-with-too-many-names said firmly, taking his elf's smooth pale hands in his own hunky ones. For a brief moment, a SPARK of hope appeared when Legolas's pretty pointed ears turned a slight pinkish hue. _Well… _The-man-with-too-many-names thought. _At least I still make his ears pink… _However, whatever SPARK that was there, was just but a SPARK. And we all know SPARKS doth not last. Therefore, the SPARK that was there a moment ago was not there anymore. The elf gasped loudly and tried with all his will and might (more will than might actually, for Aragorn's hands were nice and warm) to pull his hands away. He succeeded eventually and managed not to think about how nice and warm those hunky hands were. The-man-with-too-many-names lookest apprehensively at Legolas, waiting for him to speakest.

"Aragorn." Legolas deadpanned. 

"Aye?" Said person replied.

"I wanst thee…"

"Aye!!! Me too!"

"TO take me…"

'Aye?…"

"Out."

"Oh."

"Aye?" 

"Aye."

"Now then, I hath been sewing for some time and my body tis stiff. Come help me rub my back, Aragorn." Legolas gave a sweet smile and skipped towards the bed. The-man-with-too-many-names was so confused by the sudden change of mood that he couldst only follow obediently. _Elves… Who knows what they art thinking… Perhaps I should have bought the book "Men art from Gondor, Elves art from Mirkwood"… _(A/N: *music fades in* NOW for only 25 Middle-earth dollars!! While stocks last! Not to be confused with "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus." We art selling that book too by the way. *music fades out*) 

As The-man-with-too-many-names proceeded to rub his elf's back, he snuck in a nibble on a pointed ear. And lo and behold! It turned pink. AGAIN. And soon, a normal back rub developed almost immediately into a HUGE bout of passionate lovemaking. The multi-purpose pretty pink handkerchief was turned into a *cough* blindfold for a VERY flushed face elf and what was meant to be an innocent showing off of a newly completed piece of handicraft hath turned out to be not so innocent after all.

The End.

A/N: ok, this is a weird story… 


	3. The Birthday Party

/** Author's Note: For why I wrote this fiction, please see SnE #1. And again, it is written in terrible archaic speech. ;P  R/R please!

Just wish to say a few words to those who reviewed Chapter2.

devilburns – hey thanks! Jus pop in or email your ideas anytime ;)

Ivory Tower - Awaiting your Dr Snape! Heh heh

Cable wu – human and orc?? *cough* NOOoooo…

Yukito – aye bro, tis a little slow. Anyway, I HATH to insert AL! =)

S_Star – double review!! Haha, thanks a lot!! Oh, the books art all sold out! Hath to wait for the next print. Heh, just for thee, I give thee 60% discount. By the way, what is LMAO? 

To all: Drop me some ideas for scenarios k? Any suggestions as to where they should go next? Thanks again to you all! **/

Scenarios n Exchanges (that will make JRR Tolkien do flip-flops in his grave)

(In other words, things that we will never see in the books or in the movies… )

Scenario n Exchange #3: 

Legolas, the pretty elf, was feeling extremely nervous. Wringing his slender pale hands for the umpteenth time, he peered out of the window of his nice little room again. Still nothing. Not a single soul in sight. No Elrond, no Gimli… No HIM… _Hath they forgotten about it??…_ The elf thought sadly.Feeling quite sorry for himself, he sat down on his pink lone settee and pouted. After what seemed like ages (A/N: Five minutes actually…), the elf decided to take a walk, hoping to find some reason for the strange disappearance of everybody. _Perhaps they art preparing a surprise for me!! _He mused. With this new thought, Legolas brightened up considerably and skipped out of the room and out of the house. Looking around, he furrowed his pretty brows slightly. _Where shalt I start? Ah… Mayhaps I shalt try Frodo's house… _Whistling a pretty tune, the elf proceeded to skip gracefully down the sandy path to where Frodo and Sam (Frodo's supposed _gardener_) resided.

*knock knock* "Frodo? Art thou there? Sam?" Legolas called out. A muffled "Coming!" was heard and after a while the door creaked opened, revealing a disheveled-looking Frodo. His hair was mussed up, his shirt was buttoned up wrongly and his pants worn the other way. Tis was EXTREMELY obvious that the hobbit hath gotten dressed in a hurry but Legolas tis was an innocent elf after all and so didst not suspect something was "not right". Instead he said, "Hello Frodo, doth thou knowest thou hath thy buttons buttoned up wrongly and thy pants worn the wrong way?" 

"Er… Aye. Er… Hello Legolas, tis something the matter?" Frodo asked politely, though he punctured the greeting with several backward longing glances towards the bedroom. 

"Oh! Nothing tis the matter, erm, just that art thou having any PLANS later? Like LUNCH or DINNER? And art we having any GATHERING and hath thou seen ARAGORN?" The elf enquired, cautiously stressing certain keywords in his sentence. 

"SamandIarthavinglunchathomeandwedothnothathanyplansfordinneryet.IhathnotheardanyplansforagatherinandIhathnotseenAragorn…" Frodo replied swiftly. "Ifthouwiltexcuseme,Ihathsomethingurgenttoattendto!!" With that, the hobbit attempted to close the door in the elf's crestfallen face. (A/N: *clicks translator* Sam and I art having dinner at home and we doth not hath any plans for dinner yet. I hath not heard any plans for a gathering and I hath not seen Aragorn… If thou wilt excuse me, I hath something urgent to attend to!! *unclicks translator* Ok ok, I'm just trying to make the story longer… Sue me.)

"Wait! Wait! Thou REALLY hath no plans for dinner? No gathering??" The panicking elf stuck a pretty foot into the house, successfully preventing the door from closing. "Art thou sure? Check again!"

In normal circumstances, Frodo wouldst hath been more than happy to entertain his elf friend but he really was in the midst of something important. He and Sam hath bought the smallest wax candle (due to budget constraint) in a local shop, and was about to test it out when the knocking started. Frustrations (due to the untimely interruption) mixed with the already running high emotions of sexual tension (A/N: In this case, sexual tension is: Frodo canst wait to hath SEX with Sam and he tis feeling TENSEd up due to Legolas's bugging), Frodo couldst stand it no longer and decided to do something drastic. Widening his blue eyes and faking a stoned-on-pipe-weed expression, he dribbled saliva on his tunic and started intoning in a shrill voice, "Prrrreeciousssss… MYYY preeeeciouusssss…" whilst swaying back and forth on the balls of his very large and very hairy feet. 

Alarmed by the scene before him, Legolas backed away from Frodo quickly and stared worriedly at the hobbit. The pretty elf was alarmed the second time when the hobbit, in mere seconds, hath a 100% recovery and proceeded to shut the door while calling out a muffled apology. Suspecting the hobbit of hiding something from him, Legolas pressed his pointy ears against the door, hoping to catch some snippets of conversation. As elves hath excellent hearing, what went on in the bedroom went un-unheard. In less than a minute, our pink-pointy-eared elf fled the scene when he overheard certain stuff that due to censorship on ff.net, couldst not be written down whole. (A/N: For those who art REALLY curious, just take it that a wax candle hath many other uses besides lighting up a room and Legolas will never look at a corncob in the same way again.)  

Feeling rather depressed and hungry, Legolas made his way to a vegetarian tavern and ordered a quick vegetarian meal, while keeping a lookout for his lover or any of his other friends. His attention was slightly shifted though when the Soup Of The Day arrived. Tis was corn. Conversations between the two hobbits came rushing back to his head and the elf felt rather sick. He remembered something along the lines of the corncob being too big and something being too small. 

"Something wrong with the soup, Elf Prince?" The owner of the tavern asked. Let's call him IHC – Insignificant Human Character. 

"Non, tis ok. Thank thee…" Legolas replied graciously, with a plastic smile plastered on his face. He doth hath manners after all.

"Aye, no problem! Tis the best corn ever! Harvested from them fields them hobbits own!" IHC said enthusiastically.

"I beg thy pardon? The corn tis from the hobbits?!" 

"Aye! Frodo and Sam!" 

The sick elf turned extremely pale and stumbled out of the tavern retching away. No longer in the mood for food, he shuffled slowly into the woods and lay down beneath a tree in a bad mood. (A/N: hey it rhymes!)

Soon it was even- 

"HEY! Thou left me dangling a few lines up! Don't I have an ending??" IHC cried. (A/N: No.)

"Damn." (A/N: Get lost. You are an IHC. Remember?)

"Damn." *poof*

Soon it was evening. Legolas stirred awake and proceeded to do some slight exercise. (A/N: Wishest to maintain a SLIM figure? Wishest to keep those calves STRONG and LEAN? Call NOW to order an exercise videotape titled "25-Ways To Keep That Elf Butt Tight by Richard Simmons" *picture of RS wearing leggings and fake pointed ears* Now for ONLY $39.99! First 50 callers will get a pair of green spandex exercise leggings worth $19.90 ABSOLUTELY FREE! Why wait?! ~30-day back money guaranteed. Please allow 31 days for delivery~) 

Done, the elf trudged back home with heavy feet and an even heavier heart. Reaching his front door, he found a piece of note stuck on it. It read '_Dear one, please proceed to the clearing in the woods. Love, A_''. With a delighted squeal, Legolas abandoned all unhappy thoughts and flew (literally) to the clearing in the MIDDLE of the woods. And what a sight that greeted him! A makeshift stage was in the MIDDLE of the clearing and there were tables and chairs surrounding it. The entire area was luminated by light bulbs stringed from the trees' branches. All of his companions (including the dead Boromir) were already seated at the tables, drinking frosted beer in mugs and engaging in talk. The noise died down immediately when Legolas stepped tentatively into the clearing.

"My friend! Come! Aragorn hath a surprise for thee." Gandalf the Greying White said, while beckoning with his staff.

Leading the elf to the MIDDLE, Gandalf the Greying White pointed to a small button device on a chair beside the stage and walked back towards his seat. The elf then realised that there was a huge box in the MIDDLE of the stage. The box hath polka dot patterns on it and a large red bow on the top. Glancing at the chair, he saw the button device came with a note. Legolas recognised it to be in Aragorn (aka The-man-with-too-many-names)'s handwriting. It read '_Push this elf_ '. In his hurry, The-man-with-too-many-names left out a comma and thou knowest elves hath extremely STRAIGHT thinking, and the result was Legolas poking himself on the chest, on the arms and the legs with his fingers.

~@~@~@~@~@

In the meantime, Ara- The-man-with-too-many-names was sweating like a pig who hath just finish running a marathon with Ring Wraiths chasing after it. The box was quite cramped and there were no ventilation holes. He hath heard Gandalf showing his elf the device and he was wondering what was taking the music so long to start. Drawing his dagger from his boot, The-man-with-too-many-names began to form a tiny eyehole on the box. Sneaking a look, he groaned in exasperation when he saw Legolas poking himself all over. 

"THE BUTTON!! PUSH THE BLOODY BUTTON!! NOT THYSELF, DAMMIT!!" The-man-with-too-many-names called out in frustration.

"My Lord Aragorn??" The startled elf squeaked. He looked apprehensively at the box. "Tis thee?"

"Ay- I mean NON! Tis not me! Push the button!" The voice called out again.

The elf blinked in confusion. Well, tis sure sounded like his human lover. Throwing caution to the wind, he pushed the button…

~@~@~@~@~@

The light bulbs flickered and blinked in a repetitive pattern. A low voice rang out…

**_I'm too sexy for my love too sexy for my love/Love's going to leave me… _***music starts*

~@~@~@~@~@

_Finally… _The sexy, hunky owner of the sexy, hunky voice thought. The lid of the box popped upon and The-man-with-too-many-names stood up. Legolas the pretty elf stared in a mixture of horror and surprise. 

"ARAGORN????"

The hunky ranger jumped out of the box and began to lip-synch and dance on stage. Catcalls were heard all around. 

~@~@~@~@~@

(A/N: Aragorn's performance…)

**_I'm too sexy for my shirt too sexy for my shirt/So sexy it hurts… _**Aragorn gave his elf a seductive look and fingered the buttons of his tunic. Pulling out a small dagger, he proceeded to pop them one by one… slowly…

**_And I'm too sexy for Milan too sexy for Milan/New York and Japan… _**The-man-with-too-many-names stripped off his shirt and threw it on the floor, revealing a glorious splendid body that all men, dwarves, orcs, elves, hobbits and other insignificant races in Middle-Earth wouldst die for.  

"What's a mee land? Aragorn! Thou wilt catch thy death! Wear back thy shirt!" 

**_And I'm too sexy for your party/Too sexy for your party/No way I'm disco dancing… _**Pursing his sexy lips, Aragorn sashayed from one end of the makeshift stage to the other, flicking his dark mane back all the while. His tight leather black pants clad hotly against his strong long legs.  

**_I'm a model you know what I mean/And I do my little turn on the catwalk/Yeah on the catwalk on the catwalk yeah/I do my little turn on the catwalk… _**Giving a perfect left turn, he continued to sway his hips and gave a slight wink at the blushing elf. (A/N: FYI, Eowyn hath SUDDENLY taken ill earlier and was not present at the party.) The crowd hath gone quite wild and was dancing to the music. Even Gandalf the Greying White was into it. Using his staff, he gave a small performance of a REAL pole-dance. 

**_I'm too sexy for my car too sexy for my car/Too sexy by far… _**

"Car? Wat tis a car?" Although very much entranced by the singing and dancing, Legolas was quite confused by the words.

**_And I'm too sexy for my hat/Too sexy for my hat what do you think about that…_** Plucking a black velvet hat from thin air, Aragorn placed it tilted low on his head, imitating M.J's move in Billie Jean. 

**_I'm a model you know what I mean/And I do my little turn on the catwalk/Yeah on the catwalk on the catwalk yeah/I shake my little tush on the catwalk… _**Sticking out his tight butt (A/N: Wishest to hath THAT BUTT? Wishest to own those STRONG calves? Call NOW to order an exercise videotape titled "25-Ways To Keep That Human Butt Tight by Richard Simmons". Now for ONLY $39.99! Why wait?! ~30-day back money guaranteed. Please allow 31 days for delivery~), Aragorn rotated his pelvis in a not so innocent manner. Frodo fainted out of sheer excitement and Sam just stood there drooling. 

**_(I'm too sexy for my too sexy for my too sexy for my) Cos! I'm a model you know what I mean/And I do my little turn on the catwalk/Yeah on the catwalk on the catwalk yeah/I shake my little tush on the catwalk… _**And he proceeded to do just that.

**_I'm too sexy for my cat too sexy for my cat/Poor pussy poor pussy cat… _**Legolas purred as he stared into those smoldering eyes. 

**_I'm too sexy for my love too sexy for my love/Love's going to leave me… And I'm too sexy for this song! _***music ends*

Aragorn ended the song with his hip thrust out at a side, one arm bent with the palm resting behind his head and the other arm outstretched forward, index finger pointing at the elf. Applause resounded across the tables and the lights went back to normal.

"Happy Life-day, dear one!" The-man-with-too-names greeted and pulled the shocked elf in a crushing embrace. 

The celebration lasted till the wee hours of the next day. The beer hath finished and the food consumed. Legolas lifted his head slightly and gazed happily at his friends lying on the tables, chairs and even the floor, drunk and snoring away. Snuggling back against his sleeping lover's broad chest, he concluded tis was the best birthday celebration he wouldst ever hath. Closing his eyes, he dozed off into a deep sleep, dreaming of bright lights and music, and a very sexy Aragorn in the middle of it all.

The End.

A/N: Heh heh… This chapter is not that slashy. Isn't Aragorn sweet? Aww…  Also, Too Sexy by Right Said Fred doesn't belong to me. And apologies to all Richard Simmons's fans, I needed an exercise guru…


	4. The PoleDance competition

/** Author's Note: For why I wrote this fiction, please see SnE #1. And again, it is written in terrible archaic speech. ;P  R/R please!

To all who reviewed my chapter 3, THANK YOU so so very much! WoW! *touched* You guys deserve toffee sweets! *hands everybody a big bag of toffees each* 

WARNING: This chapter is EXTREMELY weird n blasphemous. Tolkien purists are advised to stay far, far, far away… I think there's something awfully wrong with me to be writing this particular chapter…^^ Not much action, just lots of conversation. Hopefully, it's not boring… 

Scenarios n Exchanges (that will make JRR Tolkien do flip-flops in his grave)

(In other words, things that we will never see in the books or in the movies…)

Scenario n Exchange #4: 

*tap tap*

*tap tap tap* 

*tap tap tap tap*

"Tis is ridiculous!" Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood, exclaimed in exasperation as he tapped his pretty foot impatiently against the floor. Giving a very undignified (A/N: but still pretty) pout, he began to braid his honey blond locks whilst waiting for his love to arrive.

"My elf!" A deep, sensuous voice called out from behind. It couldst only belong to Aragorn, The-gorgeous-brooding-charming-man-with-too-many-names. Holding out a yellow daffodil in his nice, hunky hand, Aragorn gavest a slight grin. Totally out of character for the ranger but his elf doth likest tis type of flowers. (Aragorn: I wishest to sayeth that tis merely a sweet gesture on my part. It hath absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I'm late.  A/N: Thank thee, Arry. I'm SURE the readers believe thee…) Expecting his pretty elf to greet him with the usual affectionate kiss, The-man-with-too-many-names puckered up and waited. And waited. And waited… A mocking bird mocked mockingly in a distant tree… And still, he waited… (A/N: Never sayeth Men art not patient creatures…)

"Aragorn. Thou. Art. Late." A cold voice replied.

_Damn… Now what tis Rule #24 in that book I just bought? Hmm… ayest!_

"Thou miss me, non?" The-man-with-too-many-names teased. _Please work… please work… please work…_

(A/N: For thy info, the book tis none other than 'Men art from Gondor, Elves art from Mirkwood'. *flips book* Rule #24 states: 'Never argue with elves. Thou couldst never win. Instead, distract them.')

"What?! Non!!" His elf replied in a hurry. _Yesss…_

"Non?" Aragorn raised a sexy eyebrow.

"Non?" He asked again while leaning over and nibbling a pointed ear.

"N-n-non!" The flustered elf chocked out.

"Non?" The human queried mercilessly, this time placing feathery kisses on his pretty elf's cheek. 

"Non! Why wouldst I, Prince of Mirkwood, miss a HUMAN?" Legolas cried out, as he pushed his lover away. 

"Because I art THY human?" _Come on… succumb…_

"Well…hmm…true… but… I…I…I canst hath all the humans I want! I doth not need thee!" The elf faltered at first but upon seeing the smirk on his lover's face, he decided otherwise. (A/N: THAT wasn't very smart of Aragorn, but then again, Men hath never been known to be the brightest bulb in the box.)

_Damn again. Time to use Rule #32… _

Sensing an opportunity, The-man-with-too-many-names grabbed his elf by the waist and they both tumbled onto the floor. (A/N: *flips book* Rule #32 states: 'Elves art very affectionate creatures. Very.')

"I art thou, as thou art mine…" Aragorn breathed into a pointed ear. (A/N: which promptly turned pink.)

"Let me up, Aragorn! Tis unseemly! What if somebody seest us?" The Elf Prince struggled wildly to break free, though on closer look, he doth not seemest to be trying very hard.

"Let's hath some fun!" 

"Not here!"

"Well, let's adjourn to thy house then!" 

"Of course…" The elf blushed furiously. _Bingo._

Holding hands, the couple eagerly makest their way back to Rivendale. But along the way… 

**(A/N: *cough* Things go weird from here onwards. Thou hath been warned.)**

"Ah! There thou art!" 

"Erm, Doth Gandalf needst us for anything?" 

"Ayest! Now that thou hath mentioned it, I needst the two of thee to be judges." Gandalf the Greying White sayeth.

"Judges?" The elf questioned again quizzically.

"Aye, I'm afraid I canst not explain it further… If thou wouldst spare a moment and cometh to my house?" The wizard replied with a mysterious look on his face.

"Wellst?" The elf snuck a glance at his human.

"I… suppose?" Aragorn glanced back. "Tis Gandalf after all, we better follow him, non?"

"Aye… Very well Gandalf, we shalt heed thy call." Sayeth the slightly disappointed elf. 

"Good! Come along now!" Smiling widely, the wizard led the way.

Soon, the trio stood in front of an ancient wooden door.

"Please, my friends, enter!" And with a flourish of his arms, Gandalf opened the door and beckoned inwards. (A/N: Gandalf's house is pretty simple in structure. A living room… one bedroom… one washroom. That's about it.)

The-man-with-too-many-names and his elf padded tentatively into the house. And what a horrendous sight that greeted them. The place tis covered with pink paper streamers and a large disco ball hung from the center of the ceiling. 

"What TIS it… Gandalf?" Legolas gasped out. Aragorn, on the other hand, hath been stunned speechless for the moment. 

"We art having a competition! And thou two hath volunteered to be the judges!"

"We? Who else??" The-man-with-too-many-names spokest up, only to be ignored by the wizard.

 "A… DANCE competition?" The elf inquired in a dread tone.

"Not a mere dance!" With that, Gandalf the Greying White proceeded to close and lock the main door, casting a spell on it to prevent others from entering the house. (A/N: and unfortunately, others from exiting…)

Aragorn shifted uncomfortably. "Erm wizard, just what exactly art we doing here?" 

Gandalf gave another smile that didst not put any of them at ease. "Let me present the other competitor now."

"The… OTHER competitor?" Legolas spluttered. "We art in this… dance??"

"Non, non! Like I sayeth, Aragorn and thee art the judges. There art only two of us!"  

"…us?… Doth thou meanst that THOU… wouldst be… performing…?"

"Aye! Tis correct. Thou wilt decide who tis the better dancer, me or him!"

"… him?…" Aragorn asked weakly.

"…Tis…not… Saruman…right?" Legolas added.

"Thou called?" 

The-man-with-too-many-names and the Prince of Mirkwood turned slowly toward the direction of the new voice. Tis a very familiar voice indeed. Saruman the Rebonded White stepped out of the bedroom happily, clad in a full-bodied leopard-prints leotard. Aragorn clutched his lover's arm tightly whilst suppressing the urge to scream. (A/N: Well, of course, he must suppress it. He canst not act so high-strung in public, non? One word-Image. Although consorting with an elf hath already killed it much. Not that elves art bad but- Aragorn, Legolas, Gandalf and Saruman: GET ON WITH THE BLOODY STORY! A/N: ok ok… sheesh…) Legolas in turn, went into a major bout of coughing till he tis nearly bent double. 

"Now sit thyselves over _there_ while I go change." Gandalf pointed a finger at three pink-feather-covered chairs situated against the wall.

"…change?…" Aragorn sayeth in a strained voice.

"Aye! Wait till thou seest MY leotard!" With that, the wizard entered his bedroom, whistling a tune. Aragorn turned a slight shade of green as he and his love slumped dazedly into the chairs, not believing their predicament. 

"Hey guys, doth I lookest fat?" Saruman asked while checking himself in front of the living room mirror.

"Non…" The elf wheezed out.

"Not…at…all" Choked The-man-with-too-many-names.

"Do something, Aragorn!!" The pale elf whispered between gritted teeth. "I canst not take it anymore!"

The-man-with-too-many-names turned an even deeper shade of green when Saruman started to strut round the house, whilst braiding his long, straight, beard with pink ribbons. (A/N: *tacky commercial music fades in* Hath fizzy hair? Hath an unmanageable beard? Why wait? Come down to 'Let's Go Straight' – the finest salon in Middle-Earth, for a rebond! Absolutely safe and pain-free! Using only the finest equipment imported from Back-Earth, we guarantee thee a satisfactory experience! *Saruman appears* "I used to cry every night in my pillow because other wizards will tease me and even my minio- I mean, domestic helpers, doth not take me seriously! I hath broken so many combs in my lifetime till one day, I stepped into 'Let's Go Straight'. The experience was mind-blowing! Now, I'm a happy and confident man who hath made friends with my peers. They art even jealous of my straight hair and beard now! Thank you 'Let's Go Straight'! *Saruman leaves the screen* Hurry! Give us a chance to make thee happy! Call 1900-make-me-gay!! *tacky commercial music fades out*)

"Excuse me… Saruman?" Legolas called out meekly to the other wizard.

"Aye?"

"Thinkest thou doth not needst… THOSE…" He pointed limply at the ribbons.

"…Pink… doth not…suit leopard-prints…leo-leotard" Aragorn added with a cough.

"Non?…" Saruman sayeth sadly.

"Definitely… NON." The ranger coughed again.

"Ah… what about those then!!?" Saruman hath spotted some yellow ribbons on the table.

"Gah!… Non, non! Yellow and leopard-prints doth not match either!"

Saruman stood there deep in thought. The room fell silent.

"Aha! I knowest!" The wizard exclaimed suddenly. With a wave of his hand, the pink ribbons art now covered in leopard-prints. "Now they match! Aye?"

"…Aye…" Sayeth The-man-with-too-many-names.

"…Of…course…" Sayeth the elf.

Watching Saruman braiding his beard, Legolas pointed out, "Thy lovely… straight beard… doth… not… needst anything else…"

"Hmm? Aye, very well. Ah, doth not forget silky too!" Saruman replied. (A/N: *sensuous commercial music fades in* Hath rebonded thy hair but lost its shine and texture in the process? Doth not fear! With our special-formulated shampoo and conditioner, keep those tresses smooth and shiny always! A blend of herbal essence will leave a nice scent, making thee feel good, all day and all night! *Saruman appears, washing his head and beard* *Saruman rinsing* *Saruman having his hair and beard blown by a dryer* *Silky shiny tresses wisp about his face as he shook his head from side to side* *He declares in a deep, husky tone* "L'Oréal. Because I'm worth it." *sensuous commercial music fades out*) 

 SUDDENLY… The lights dimmed. (A/N: erm, I know it's daytime. Just assume there are disco lights within the house, k? ;p)

An eager voice called out from the bedroom. "I'm reeeeaaaaddddyyyy…!"

The occupants of the revolting pink chairs gripped the wooden seat handles. Hard. Saruman clapped excitedly and started to cheer. "Gandy! Gandy! Gandy!"

"Wrinkled Orc's Balls! Doth not encourage him!" Aragorn seethed and cursed.

Legolas snapped his eyes shut when the bedroom door creaked open. "I doth not bear to seest!"

"He's coming out!" The ranger whispered in horror. 

"Aragorn, doth not tell me!" The elf hissed. 

The lights came back on and there stood the aging wizard in…

"Something wrong, Legolas? How doth I lookest? Aragorn?" He inquired.

"…Tis…tis…not…b-bad…" The ranger replied very, very weakly. _I hath officially lost all respect for the wizard. Both of them. Not that I respect the other one in the first place… _

"Legolas? What's wrong?" The wizard asked. He doth not sound very pleased. 

The ranger nudged his lover in the ribs. "… Sayeth something nice…"

"But Mellonamin! I canst not lie! Elves doth not lie!" He whispered back. "Except on their backs." (A/N: Mellonamin is 'lover' in Elven language.)

"I'm sure thou doth that a lot." The-man-with-too-many-names answered with a grin. 

"Tisallright,Gandalf.Thoulookestfine." Legolas managed to squeak out while batting his lover's arm in mock anger. 

Gandalf the Greying White beamed proudly as he admired his neon pink/black bumblebee design leotard, complete with tiny wings and antennas. 

Saruman went into a delirious trance and started giving the other wizard come-hither looks. "I AAAM THHHYYYY NEEC-TAAR!! COOMMEEE POOOLLEEEENAAATTTEEE MEEEE!!!" He screamed. 

Legolas promptly fainted.

"Erm… excuse me Gandalf. It seemest mine elf hath fainted. I shalt take him outside for a breath of fresh air! We shalt be going now…!"

"Nonsense! Tis small matter!" With a wriggle of a manicured finger, Gandalf revived the elf. For good. Meaning he canst not faint for the next few hours. Bummer huh?

"Damn thee, Gandalf!"

"What's that, Aragorn?"

"I said 'Thank thee', Gandalf…"

"Ah."

"So what exactly art thou going to do?"

Gandalf and Saruman chorused together. "POLE-DANCING!!"

"It seemth that mine dreams of dying in battle hath been dashed." The elf muttered sorrowfully. Aragorn sighed deeply and gathered his love in his nice, hunky arms. 

"Let's begin the competition!" Gandalf declared excitedly.

"Wait, wait! I just remembered something! I hath to run some errands for Elrond! Now!" 

"Aye!! And he wants to seest me too! Isn't that right, Legolas?"

"Ayest!"

"We hath to go now! Lest Elrond gets angry!"

"Who, me?" A voice came up from behind them. Tis a very familiar voice indeed.

"Elrond! Doth not tellst me thou art party to tis…" The elf whimpered.

"But I art! The third judge, actually!" Elrond sayeth innocently. "Ooo! Gandalf! That tis pretty costume! Canst I change my clothes too?"

"Of course, my friend! Help thyself!" And the wizard gestured towards the bedroom. 

"Erm, Gandalf! Aye, it slipped my mind! Tis not errands, but archery practise! Aye! I must go work on my…my… long range shot!"

"Sit. Down."

"But-"

"Sit."

"B-"

"SIT!" Thunder rumbled loudly as lightning bolts flashed outside the house, illuminating the occupants in a pale blue glow. Paling, the elf and the ranger sat down in a hurry.

"Lets begin then…"

"Wait for meeeeeee!" Elrond hurried out of the bedroom. He settled down on another pink-feathered-covered chair and smoothed down his blue tutu. "Pretty, non?"

"…"

"…"

With a clap of his hands, music started to play. Gandalf wrapped a feathery boa about his neck and started to gyrate while swinging his staff about. (A/N: his STAFF, as in the wooden stick… people, what art thou THINKING? *tsk*)

"…fashion…is…dead." Aragorn whispered to the trembling elf.

"THE HILLSSS AAART ALIIIIVEEEEE! WIIITH THE SOOOUND OFF MOOOOZZIIIC!!…" Gandalf boomed out. Clutching their ears, our favourite couple started to writhe in their chairs. Making matters worse, the deranged wizard started to mock run with the pole, pretending he really was on a hill. Saruman jumped up from his seat and pretended to be a fluttering butterfly, with Elrond in tow.

"LOOOK AT MEEEE! LOOOOK AT MEEEE!!! I ART PWETTTTYYY BUTTTERFFFWWWY!!!" They sang together. 

(A/N: apparently I canst not describe the rest of the competition in full details as Legolas and The-man-with-too-many-names hath their eyes closed throughout. _Idiots. _Anyway, there were plenty of pelvis-shaking, +booty-bumping+, off-key singing, major-hum *cough* scratch that… erm… yeah. That's all. *cough*)

Conclusion: Legolas and Aragorn managed to flee the scene, after persuading Saruman with a tantalizing deal, to unlock the door for them. What forms of persuasion? I leave it to the readers' imagination. (A/N: A free meal! That's what! …People, what art thou THINKING? *tsk*) 

The End.

+booty-bumping+ -- (A/N: *steel drums music fades in* Gandalf and Saruman: Want buns of steel?! Why waitst!? Order the new video made by us for only M.E$90! Expensive? Hey, buns doth not comest cheap! We will throw in Xerox pictures of our butts to give thee motivation! Remember, being old doth not give thee an excuse to hath two shriveled prunes as thy rear asset! Go, buns! *steel drums music fades out*)

A/N: ok, that's all for this chapter. I'm really demented now. Like it? Hate it? Tell me! I have a feeling I will be getting flames for this… but well, heck, I enjoyed writing it! Mwahahah! ^^


	5. The Misery

/** Author's Note: For why I wrote this fiction, please see SnE #1. And again, it is written in terrible archaic speech. ;P  R/R please!

To all who reviewed my chapter 4, THANK YOU so so very much! WoW! *touched* You guys deserve toffee sweets and chocolate chip cookies with extra hot fudge on it! Note: A certain character-bashing… Mwahahaha… All characters belong to JRR Tolkien **/

Scenarios n Exchanges (that will make JRR Tolkien do flip-flops in his grave)

(In other words, things that we will never see in the books or in the movies…)

Scenario n Exchange #5:  

The wind howled loudly as it swirled around the dark-haired, hunky figure lying motionless on the ground. Maimed carcasses of the Uruk-Hi-I'm-a-dweeb littered the snow, leaving pretty red print patterns around. A streak here, a spot there, a splat at the far corner… Sauron wouldst be proud. The-man-with-too-many-names gave a sexy shiver and opened his gorgeous-hubba-hubba-rrroaaww eyes wearily. How long he hath been unconscious, he doth not knowest. His lover elf hath runnest off to getst help the moment the battle was over. _Damn Yrch… I couldst be in a nice warm tub with my elf now… But nooooooo, I art stuck in the cold freezing my sexy butt off! Damn Yrch… _(A/N: Yrch, the Elvish word for orcs, otherwise pronounced as Yech. Uruk: Yous makes it sounds like insult! A/N: Sue me.)The-man-with-too-many-names grumbled under his oh-so-hot breath. Painstakingly, Aragorn pulled himself into a sitting position and rested his head against a tree. 

The-man-with-too-many-names gripped the hilt of his sword tightly when the silence was broken by the sound of fluttering wings. Looking up into the white sky, he seest a flock of birds scattering wildly, as if they art escaping some unseen foe. Stilling his heart, he drew his sword and waited with bated oh-so-hot breath. Chill runnest down his spine when a loud shrill voice rang out from within the forest. 

"Aaaaaaaarrrrrrryyyyyyyy!! I –moo!-  makest cccoooookkkkkkkiiiiiiiieeeeessssss!!"

"By Sauron's flaming eye! Not HER!" The-man-with-too-many-names exclaimed in horror as he turned wildly to the left then to the right, trying to seest which direction she wouldst come from.

The ground shook a little, showering the hunky ranger with tiny flakes of snow from the tree he was under. As the thumping sound grew louder and drew closer, The-man-with-too-many-names struggled to stand up, wheezing in pain as he clutched his chest. Eowyn, hereby known as The Cow, gave a delighted squeal and thumped towards her prey whilst cradling a basket of burnt cookies.  

"Arry! My –moo!- future king! I hath makest nice, delicious cookies for thee! -moo!- Sample them!" Sayeth The Cow, as she shoved a cookie, that lookest suspiciously likest something scrapped from the bottom of the oven, into the ranger's mouth.

"Ugh! Did thou scrap that from the bottom of the oven?" The-man-with-too-many-names spat. (A/N: coincidentally, the words AND the cookie)

"Arry! Of –moo!- course not! I makest –moo!- the cookies myself!" The Cow sayeth as she pouted.

"Whatever. Leavest me be!" The-man-with-too-many-names grumbled irritatingly as he shooed the Princess of Rohan away with a weak hand. 

"My king! –moo!- Thou art hurt! Comest! I shalt heal –moo!- thy wounds for thee!" The Princess crowed as she grabbed hold of Aragorn's legs. The poor ranger tryest his best to fend off the woman but alas, weak and injured, he hath no choice but to be dragged away. Digging his sheathed sword deep in the snow, the ranger proceeded to create as much friction as possible, and at the same time, maketh tracks for his elf to follow. But doth not underestimate the strength of the Princess! With steely determination glowing insanely from her eyes, she gripped the hunky legs harder and crunched through the snow whilst singing "I'm Every Woman (it's all in meeeeee!)" in a loud, off-key voice.

"By Gandalf's bumblebee leotard! Help!!" The-man-with-too-many-names cried out. Despair washed over him as they travelled farther from the battlefield, farther from help and much, much nearer to Mordor. (A/N: merely a figure of speech. Middle-Earth hath no Hell) The hunky man gave a few sharp cries of pain as The Cow blindly stepped over a sharp rock (A/N: conveniently forgetting she was carrying a 'passenger') which hit the ranger's nether region (A/N: somewhere near the edge of the forest, Legolas's eyelids began to twitch wildly), dragged across the already injured chest and scrapping that sexy, stubble chin women and a certain elf love to kiss. 

"Damn thee, woman! Watchest thy steps!" The ranger seethed.

Minutes ticked by in a blur. The Cow halted suddenly and The-man-with-too-many-names raised his head that was throbbing in pain and lookest ahead warily. There, before him, stood a secluded two-storey high cottage built from grey stones. Trees that art stripped bare of leaves flanked the cottage. The roof was covered with thick snow and black smoke billowed out from the chimney. The windowpanes art misted with vapour and tiny icicles hung from the windowsills. All in all, tis was creepy with a capital 'C'.

"Arry! –moo!- Welcome to my –moo!- lovely _private_ home!" The Cow sayeth with a grandeur swish of an arm. Before Aragorn couldst reply, The Cow hath lifted his legs once more and proceeded to drag him into the creepy cottage that she called home. 

For a brief second, The-man-with-too-many-names thanked the Gods above for bestowing upon him a thick skull as his head collided with each step of the stairway that led to the bedroom situated on the second floor. Then again, if there ART Gods, he wouldst not be in this situation now, wouldst he? Aragorn widened his eyes when the sky rumbled meaningfully and he swore he heard a snicker. Then again, it couldst be a bad cookie.           

With a grunt, The Cow pulled the injured ranger up and dumped him unceremoniously on the bed. The bed was rather hard and uncomfortable with a width fit for only one. The-man-with-too-many-names grimaced painfully as he tryest to sit up. Grasping his head that was throbbing madly in both hunky hands, he gave a soft moan.                        

"Ooooo!! Arry! –moo!- Doth that again! It soundest SO –moo!- SEXY!" The Cow cooed seductively into his face. Jumping onto the bed and straddling his legs, the deranged Princess of Rohan proceeded to undress the ranger, starting from his tunic.

"ARGH! By Elrond's tutu! WHAT ART THOU DOING?!? GET AWAY!" The ranger roared in both horror and disgust as he slapped her hands away and pushed the woman off him with what little strength he hath left. 

"Arry! –moo!- I WILLST makest –moo!- thee MINE!" Dusting her skirt and giving a happy smile (A/N: TOO happy for Aragorn's comfort), the insane woman thumped out of the room to get bandages and salve for her king.

The moment The Cow left the room, the hunky male quickly surveyed his surroundings. Wheels churning in his ranger brain, he used his ranger instincts to deduce that he was trapped in a lonely part of the forest, he was too badly injured to escape (A/N: no duh) and the Princess was short of a few screws. (A/N: *cough* THAT came out SO wrong… he meant nuts… erm, doth not sound right either… erm, BOLTS! Aye, the Princess was short of a few BOLTS)

The next hour whizzed by with the ranger getting bandaged up by the Princess but this time surprisingly, she behaved herself. A warm but barely edible meal became his lunch and so he now lay dozing on the bed dreaming of his lovely elf and lavender scented oil. Tis was with a start when he stirred awake, feeling an unfamiliar hand creeping up his thigh. _My elf's touch tis definitely much gentler than THIS…_ _And why doth I feel likest there's a rock on me… _Propping up with an elbow and cracking open an eye, he recoiled when The Cow, dressed in nothing but an apron (A/N: printed at the chest area with VERY tiny words "If thou canst read this, thou must be Aragorn"), grinned up leeringly at him as she straddled his chest.

"My king! –moo!- We art alone now! Let's cook –moo!- up a storm!" The blonde sayeth with lust-filled eyes. Puckering up, she leaned forward for a wet kiss. 

"Waitest!! Tis not appropriate! Erm… we art not married, tis dishonourable for me!" The man sayeth hurriedly, flaying his arms before him.

"Oooo!! Arry, -moo!- my love! Art thou –moo!- saying thou wanst to –moo!- marry me?? Then it shalt be done!" (A/N: while gathering healing herbs in a satchel, Legolas's eyelids began to twitch wildly once again)

"WHAT??! NON! NON! WAI-" The ranger in deep muck yelled. But tis was too late. The Cow hath leapt off him and hath thumped towards a wooden table placed near the window, leaving The-man-with-too-many-names in full view of her naked back. _Bah! My elf hath a nicer butt!_ Pulling open a drawer, she began to draw out sheets of paper, a quill and an inkpot.

"Come my king! Write –moo!- down our wedding vows! I –moo!- shalt show this to my father –moo!- and he willst hath no choice but –moo!- to agree to our wedding! For some –moo!- reason, he disapprove of thee… he sayeth thou art not straight. –moo!- I doth not understand! Thou –moo!- doth not hunch! Strangest…"

"Erm… aye…" Clutching onto his crutches for dear life, the ranger limped forward towards the table. Now was not the time to explain his relationship with the pretty elf nor was it the time to use physical strength to oppose The Cow. Seeing how insane she acted, it may not be wise to go against her. Settling himself down at the table, The-man-with-too-many-names picked up the quill and began to write… one alphabet at a time… The Cow tapped her feet impatiently and the table shook with each thump on the wooden floorboards. The-man-with-too-many-names lookest up with displeasure etching on his face.

"Doth thou mind? I art TRYING to write here…"

"Arry! Do –moo!- hurry! I canst not –moo!- stand the wait!

"Well, I canst…" The ranger muttered under his oh-so-hot breath. An hour half hath passed but the only words on the parchment was,_ 'I, Aragorn, __Son of Arathorn, Heir of Isildur, Heir of Gondor, King of Gondor'. _No wonder the blonde princess was feeling so anxious. 

Brushing his fingertips lightly across the words, the hunky ranger gave a loud exclamation and jabbed the smudged parchment angrily.

"Thou expect me to write our wedding vows on such low quality paper!? Tis an outrage! I shalt not even consider continuing unless thou getst me better parchment to write on!" With a huff, the man threw down the quill and crossed his well-toned arms. 

"Thee!! –moo!- Thee!! Fine!" The pissed off Princess of Rohan was THIS close to smashing the inkpot onto Aragorn's head. But desperate to make the ranger hers and not wishing to dirty those lovely dark tresses, The Cow thumped out of the room and down the stairs. A few choice curses later and the main door slammed shut, rattling the ornaments on the shelf. 

The man heaved a sigh of relief and limped over to the iron-barred window. Peering cautiously out, he spotted the insane Princess clamouring onto a brown horse (A/N: which protested underneath her weight) and galloping off. With the help of the crutches, The-man-with-too-many-names tentatively went down the stairs and surveyed the living room. The walls art bare but a coffee table situated before the fireplace caught his eye. Shuffling closer he seest tis was a huge drawer as well. Pulling it upon, he fell back on his hard buns with a shock. Stack to the brim was tons of pictures of… him. Clippings from Middle-Earth Times bounded into a large scrapbook and… 

"By the grace of a thousand elves, tis that my missing legging??! And my missing boot!?!" 

Fear gripped the poor ranger's heart as he pulled out more items (A/N: missing from his wardrobe) and random sketches of himself in various poses. More disturbing was the fact he art naked in ALL the sketches. Feeling queasy, The-man-with-nice-abs replaced the contents properly and closed the drawer.  Spotting a small display shelf nearby, he leaned forward for a closer look. Small clay figurines lined the shelf and strangely, they art the same size and shape. Eyes widening, The-man-with-smouldering-eyes realised why the clay figures lookest so familiar. He was looking at a miniature version of himself! The creepy part was all twenty figurines art exactly the same! Checking the bottom of one figurine, he seest the words _'Made in Gondor – Limited Edition (only 20 pieces)'_. 

"Sweet mother of dwarves! Eowyn tis mad! I better get out of here! Fast!" 

Alas, fate really art not on Aragorn's side. Before he couldst flee, a distant _clip-clop _alerted The-man-with-sexy-stubble of The Cow's arrival. Replacing the figurine carefully on the shelf, he smoothed down the rug and hurriedly limped up the stairs and into the bedroom, with none the wiser. As he sat back on the chair, the main door flung open and a loud thumping was heard. 

"Arrrrrryyyy! –moo!- My love!! I bought good –moo!- paper for –moo!- thee!" 

A few more thumps came from downstairs and the house fell into an eerie silence. The ranger strained his ears but he couldst not hear anything. It was as if The Cow hath vanished into thin air. He wished. A moment later, loud screaming echoed through the house and the insane woman thumped up the stairs with astonishingly fast speed and burst into the room, wielding a sledgehammer. A huge, heavy and very mean-looking sledgehammer…

"Arry!! So… -moo!- thou was able to walk! –moo!- Art thou going to –moo!- leave me??" She sayeth while brandishing the weapon wildly.

"Of course not! What art thou talking about!? I was up here waiting for thee all this while!!" The man sayeth hotly, though his gaze was switching nervously between The Cow and the sledgehammer. 

"Liar!! –moo!- The last figurine –moo!- was off by ten degrees!! –moo!- Thou was downstairs!! –moo!- I canst not let –moo!- thee escape me! Thou art mine! –moo!- Mine! –moo!-" And with each _moo_, she stepped closer to the hunky ranger…

"NON!!" Grabbing his crutches, The-man-with-too-many-names stood up abruptly and swiped the wooden chair at The Cow. With a powerful swing of her arms, the sledgehammer connected with the chair and smashed it into smithereens. Backing away fearfully as the Princess came closer, The-man-with-too-many-names missed his footing and fell onto the bed. Towering over her obsession, Eowyn lifted the sledgehammer above her head and stared fanatically at the injured ranger.

"Arry, love… I –moo!- willst only hurt –moo!- thy legs and nothing more… -moo!- Just a teensy –moo!- weensy smash…" The Cow cooed softly.

Not willing to succumb without a fight, The-man-with-a-golden-tan started to jab his wooden crutches at The Cow. With Matrix-like reflexes, she dodged to the left, then to the right! Finally with a loud _moo_, the blonde took a deep breath and swung her arms down, sledgehammer glinting menacingly. Aragorn shut his eyes tightly, expecting a sickening crunch to ring out. Instead, a familiar _twang_ was heard and an even more familiar voice called out to him.

"Mellonamin!!"

Heart beating wildly, the ranger opened his eyes. Soft blue orbs gazed back worriedly at him and a pale, slender hand reached out tenderly and brushed his hair back. 

"Mellonamin…" The same voice whispered. "Thou hath suffered…"

"Dear elf! Thou found me in time!" With a hoarse cry, the ranger pulled Legolas down into a rough hug. "Eowyn! She-"

"Hush, Mellonamin. The Princess hath been taken care of." The elf muttered coldly as he gazed hatefully at The Cow who was struggling underneath the weight of Gimli (A/N: in full battle armour and holding heavy axes). "I followed the trail thou makest with thy sword." 

Brushing feathery kisses across the man's weary face, Legolas smiled lovingly. Closing his eyes, the ranger drooped off into a peaceful sleep in the elf's arms. It was hours later when he awoke but this time in the bed the couple shared. His wounds hath been re-bandaged and his body wiped clean of grime and dried blood. Groaning, he sat up and leaned his head against the bed rest. With a weak smile, he beckoned his lover, who was lounging on a settee, forward. The pretty elf climbed up the bed, laid his head against the man's broad chest and looked up curiously.

"What was it like, Aragorn? At Eowyn's house?" He asked innocently.

"Misery, my dear elf. Utter misery." 

The End.

A/N: so… what thou thinkest? Poor Aragorn! *snicker*


End file.
